All We are is Dust in the Wind
by Arbitrary Escape
Summary: FF VII Drabbles/Collection. Some will be Gen, some will be ships. Most will contain character exploration. Each piece will have individual summaries, warnings, tags, etc.
1. Carry on, my Wayward Cloud

Title: Carry on, my Wayward Cloud

Summary: Tifa hates Sephiroth, and so does Cloud. Tifa misses home. Cloud missed home.

Rating: K+

Tags: Cloud, Tifa, minor CloTi (mostly Gen)

Warnings: Angst/slightly hinted delusional desire, implied depression and unresolved anger

* * *

She says he should hate _him_ for what he did. He agrees.

She cries about the loss of their home, and he nods.

She says she misses home. He pauses. It is slow, but he nods again.

The dark of night touches their skin with cool breath and she says it makes her miss the cold of the mountain; every breeze causes her to remember how peaceful it was.

But in the dark, she never sees the cruelty of his blue eyes.

For him, it was home, in a way. It was home because it was where he was from. But it is not the same for him. It was never a place he remembers fondly.

He holds her closer, tighter, unafraid to let go.

He never tells her that he hates _him_ for different reasons.

He hates _him_ for himself. Because of _him_ it was he who had lived to see another day. Day after day of torture. Waking up with no hope. Lost in a sea of _could bes_ and _should bes_ , only hoping for _would bes_.

And if home is where hearts form, then surely that place was his home - cold, abandoned, and ruthless; an isolated prison that formed him in his primitive and adolescent years.

He misses that place because a small, fledgling portion of his unsettled desire for revenge wants to be the one to burn away the waste of his memories. He wants to let them know how he felt, but he cannot. They are already dead. He is not.

His bottom lip numbs as his teeth gnaw at the flesh. A heavy breath leaves him as he pulls her closer and she shivers as she feels it on her neck and when his lips move to her hair.

He has never forgotten how no one stood up for him in that town. Only his mother, who loved him beyond words. An entire childhood wasted, an entire town that could have loved him. A whole village that did not.

Not even the girl clutching him for comfort, the girl who lived next to him for nearly a decade and a half, the girl who smiled at everyone. Everyone but him. At least, until recently.

His fingers struggle to form fists as he eases air in-and-out of his lungs.

In some ways, he appreciates it. He acknowledges that if his life had been any different, he might not be what he is now. Yet still, the anger stings. His eyes close as he relaxes and lets himself move freely, think freely, live freely.

He feels the heat of her cheeks as he plays with her hair, tucking some locks behind her ear and tracing the shell of flesh. She turns and when he palms her cheeks, she finally sees his eyes.

They are not the same as hers. She is indignant. She is furious. He is distant. He is suffocating.

Words fail her and she is puzzled. He never tells her that when he sees her, every single time, he sees the embodiment of change. That this is not the same girl who was his neighbor. That she has grown up.

And yet a part of him never forgets the girl who only knew her father's words. _Stay away from him_. He wonders why he has yet to mature. Yet to forgive. A sigh breaks loose, and he lets go and faces away from her.

She tugs on his arm, still confused. _Why? What's wrong?_ Neither question leaves her lips. Instead, she forces him to look at her. Instead, she meets his shaking with a kiss.

It is chaste and pure with emotion.

He wants to kiss back, but she pulls off. His fingers twitch and his form still shakes. She never asks. He never tells.

She knows his demons are different than hers. But she knows he needs the same kind of love. He is angry, a strange sort of angry. She does not understand why, but his emotions are his own.

He will tell her when he is ready, she believes. Until then, she will hold him just.

His eyes close, and buries her face in his neck. Demons may never die, but they are both alive. She promises him that she will be there.

A tear slips from his eyes, and she only knows this because it falls on her head. Her hands instinctively move up, brushing his hair so that she can look at him again.

There is no love between them, he thinks. But, he muses, he does not need love to want her in his life.


	2. Full Circle

Title: Full Circle

Summary: Just a country boy and girl finding their ways through life; nothing special, nothing grand, just a lifetime of discovery, patience, and love.

Rating: K+ or T

Tags: implied CloTi, implied Cloud x ?

Warnings: One-shot, character death, drama (especially life issues), romance (but not the fluffy kind), gritty realism, bisexuality and homosexuality (if that matters to anyone)

* * *

In the beginning, she liked him a lot. He was quiet, shy, but also really kind. She protected him from bullies. He saved her from loneliness.

Her dad didn't like him. But one day she came home sulking and told him how the boy outdid her on a test. They had always had close results, and she was at the top of their fourteen-child class, but, in the last science exam, he far outstripped her.

Her father was surprised and asked for the boy to come over, after mulling for a long time, silently distancing his daughter. This got rid of her bad mood and she smiled. Maybe daddy would let her be friends with him.

So he started coming by more and more and to all parties' surprised, the man opened up to him and excitedly discussed theory with this eleven year old child. He was blind to the effects this had on his girl.

The boy was not.

One day, he had used the word son to described the boy. Said boy stopped him. _Sir_ , he said, _I don't know why you like me so much now but I think you should like your daughter, too_. And the man paused, confused. He continued, you treat me like your son nowadays, but I'm not, he clarified. _You already got a kid, and I'm not her. I like you, sir, but I'm not your son. And it's not like I want this to stop, I just want you to remember that you've got a daughter to love._

He didn't say sorry, and he didn't stop coming back to the house, but on that day, he walked out and made himself a lifelong ally in the form of a then-crying little girl.

She came downstairs and looked at her father. _Daddy?_ She said. Her hesitation made his face stricken. And that was how true he realized the boy's statements were. He told her to come here, and she did. He held her and said four words. _Sorry. I love you._

She giggled and said, me too. The words she didn't say were _thank you_. But that's because they weren't for her daddy.

That night, the dad of that little girl drank himself a small glass, nursing his head as he sat on his bed, his wife asleep, her form waiting for his. His thoughts were stuck on haunting words whispered into his ears as the boy left his house earlier that day. _You used to hate me, maybe because I'm a boy, but maybe cuz I don't have no da'. But the truth is, your daughter's got one and lately, she don't lookit. This town don't need no more kids with no dad._

He put out the candle and tucked in.

* * *

When they were fifteen, his mother began to die. Hers already did. In truth, it was not a pleasant passing, and the boy knew the illness was coming strong. However, it seemed to only affect certain people in town - half of them had it, half of them didn't.

He couldn't tell what made it worse for the people; having to outlive the others, or having to bury them. He only buried one, and it seemed like his family was going to be shrinking more.

Instead of being broken about it, he pulled together the pieces of his strength and said to the girl and her dad, _My mother will probably pass soon. After that, there'll only be you two in here, but I don't know if that's enough for me._ He paused as the man became angry and the girl grew cold.

They knew he was leaving, and they didn't care why. The last words he said to the man were _Thank you_. Before he left his small, country town, he had asked the girl to meet him at the tree behind his house, right next to the well.

And she met him, not as annoyed and hurt as before, but still hurt enough that she wasn't reason for him to stay. When she voiced those thoughts, she was hoping for some love or some romance. He gave her neither.

He gave her hope. He gave her breath. He gave her promise.

 _I'm not leaving because I need to. I'm leaving because I want you._ Her heart skipped beats. _I want to see the world, first, and then I'll come back. I… I want to be strong, but not just the way people think of strong._

He kissed her again. _I think you and I will be good together_ , he said. _But that's just my thoughts_. She didn't disagree. _I want you. But I don't think I'm good enough_.

And then he left, with only his promise and his clothes.

A tear fell down her face when she heard his last words. _You don't have to wait, if you don't want_.

* * *

Three years of letters and exchanges, of his exotic gifts and tales, made her smile all the time. But it was only those three years of hope.

A soft smile graced her lips, carrying its weight and sadness along with hope for a different future than she had as a little girl.

Her touch fingered the edges of a beautiful photograph - one that had a bunch of her beloved people all laughing and smiling, standing together. She thought she looked good in white.

It had been a month since her marriage was confirmed, and she had not received a letter since. The last she received from him was a card, simple and short. Inside was one word: _Congratulations_. A teardrop pendant rested inside as well, and she turned her eyes down, admiring the glow of reality, but looked back at how it matched her wine-colored irises in her wedding dress.

It hurt her to think about it, because even though he told her that he was okay with it, she could not help but conclude that he was not. Years down the line, experience and sanity would teach her that it was obvious; but then, over _those_ three years, he was out of sight and out of mind.

Their exchanges brought about a tangibility to his existence, but they never gave her the physicality of his essence; there was no body-to-body love or friendship, and at that age, it was not enough.

A hand that was not her childhood love's came over her stomach, and she leaned back into the embrace that did not belong to said love. A content sigh escaped her, and she felt a smile in her hair. This was her life now.

A local man won the favor of her dying father in the recent year, and by the end of that said year, he had been accepted. He promised his in-law that he would care for his 'little girl.'

She wanted to miss _him_ , but she thought that he had missed her.

* * *

But four years past, and she was alone. She left for the city, choosing to abandon the sad notions of romance and perfection in the peace of her small, country hometown.

When the train out came, she wasted no time in climbing aboard and letting her heart fly out the window with the rest of her naivete.

Absentmindedly, she ran a hand over her stomach and shut her eyes, hoping the train would leave faster, as though that would remove her from her reality, her history. She just wanted to get to her destination, her new place, and not have to be reminded of mistakes, not be fed pity or feel the shame and revulsion every mirror and face had to offer.

It was true that her husband never broke his word to take care of her. But he never kept his touch to only her and himself; he broke his vow of love and unity, his fidelity. A stab of unfairness and jealousy ate at her each time she brooded on the subject.

She was better looking than his other conquests, she knew, and she was more pleasant company because he admitted to her that he loved that they were friends first, before they became lovers.

 _Why couldn't you love only me?_

When he couldn't answer, she had left him, taking the only semblance of their union with her and looking for new life, even though she no longer believed in new hope.

* * *

It had taken her two nights at a hotel and three days' wandering and arguing to secure a place of permanent residence, but it was worth every moment: each word, emotional surge, and persistent intent was going to help her, even if it currently broke her spirit to keep fighting.

She collapsed on her bed and muffled a cry with the thin sack of fluff that made her pillow. She would clean later; her apartment was dirty, but it wasn't infested. And that was enough for now.

* * *

What wasn't enough, however, were the first few months of business, where she struggled to keep the doors of her bar open. If there was a Hell on this planet, she knew she was living it, or at least as close to it as she ever had in her whole life.

Two weeks of searching and bargaining had landed her a cheap, worn bar in the slums, but she made due with what she had. She was a fighter, and every step was taken by her feet, even as she treaded unknown territory and the dangers of foreclosure and bankruptcy by the month.

Her life wasn't all bad though. She had made friends who helped along, attracted enough people due to her smiles and personality, and put her foot forward as she made her way into city-life at her own pace, step-by-step.

When her son was born, she knew that it would be worse than the first few months because she had a second mouth to feed but not enough hours to nurse him.

But of course, her life seemed to always have more ups than downs.

If she was religious, she would pray to her Fates and praise the Planet. If she had believed in luck and coincidence, she would think herself the luckiest person in all the world.

One day, he was just there. She was closing up shop and was about to, politely, tell her last customer to leave. As soon as he entered, however, her breath left her. Instead, her eyes could only watch him. He walked in and looked around, then walked straight to the counter. He smiled brightly, more than he used to, and only said one word. _Hey_.

She blinked.

By the time her arms were around his neck and the tears ran down her face, she knew that she was going to be okay. Because that little country boy who knew his one little country girl neighbor never broke his promises either.

The years seemed to do little for his tendencies to nonchalantly revolutionize her world, and her tears were, for the first in a while, happy.

* * *

It had taken a few weeks to get used to having his helping hand, but she always showed him her appreciation, even when it was difficult to do so. They laughed together when nights were quiet and solemn, and when there were loud moods or lively ones. Even the mornings when he stopped by seemed to dismiss their usual grouchiness.

Her eyes crinkled with delight whenever he came by, which, she knew only because one of her workers pointed it out to her, leaving her a blushing mess. It was only her good fortune that the subject of the hour wasn't around when that was pointed out.

A nagging thought ate at her because she consumed quite a bit of his time, about one night a week. She asked him about it once. _Curious as ever, aren't you?_ He asked back, smug but not cocky. Her pouting lips had softened his gaze and he simply told her he missed her, even though life had taken them in different directions. _I'm… a bit busy, yes, but, it's okay. I like being here with you. And it's not that much time, don't worry about it._

His casual dismissal of how much help he actually gave her made life seem at ease, as though taking everything in was an inevitability but not a consequence. This newly found, to her, confidence was an eye-opener about how much he had matured as a person, and she found herself agreeing with the idea that she never wanted to lose touch with him again.

Friends like you don't come around often, she told him. Her next words made her hesitate with unfamiliar shyness, but when he nudged her, she laughed, _Okay, okay. Promise not to laugh?_ The last sentence was soft, and her eyes dipped to the side as she spoke it, prompting his finger to caress the side of her face and hold it so that they looked at one another. He didn't open his mouth, but she swallowed thickly and accepted him.

 _I think you're one of the best friends anyone - that I - could ever ask for. Thank you._

She felt trouble creep along the tingling of her flesh as he kissed the crown of her head that morning and she choked at the brilliance of his smiling expression after her confession.

* * *

Emotional turmoil had not been fun to deal with, especially when he was her best friend and cause of said turmoil. She hadn't been naive or expectant; she did not think things would magically patch themselves up and that there would be a fairytale.

But she, like many people, let her thoughts wander; and it was obvious to everyone just whom her thoughts tended towards the most. Not that they blamed her; he had a stable job, was fairly good looking - not the most beautiful man, but definitely still a beautiful man - and was also kind to most people. Just those three things alone piqued her interest, not to mention how gentle he was to her son.

Her heart skipped a beat thinking back to when he first met him. Immediately, after looking at the sleeping babe, he turned to her and said in the strongest voice she had ever heard from his lips. _I can't treat him_ like _my own, because he_ is _my own_.

Reflection occurred to her as she absently looked at him lifting her child on his shoulders that there was no other before him; that the locks of hair her little boy struggled to tug belonged to the only father he had ever known, and that the rich, deep laughter of this grown man was something that belonged to his "Da'y."

She was getting used to piecing together the image of this new family; every day gone by was a day full of more smiles than ever, and her thoughts always took her to places that seemed to make her world shine just a little brighter.

* * *

Even though it hadn't always been him, and she hadn't always been the one for him, love came around, came full circle. At the end, she knew he was in love with her, and that was what mattered the most.

When he came back into her life, he was not without attachments - skeletons in closets and a burning relationship with a superior (a male one at that! One as pretty as her, she found out, to her mortification). But weeks turned to months and then years, and eventually, the paths of life tied them in a single knot.

And yet, the road was not always smooth, he would later stress sternly when she had jokingly mentioned that he had such a good life.

It was one of the things she was startled to learn about - yes, he now had earned his merits position and taken his life into his own hands, and no matter how good it was, living carelessly, pursuing useless, meaningless, things scared him. Her heart tore a little when he began to open up to her about his problems. One that broke her heart was the lesson that life was fleeting, and the world would always move on - he told her that it took a bit more than he thought to get through it, but she only responded with a gentle kiss to convey how proud of him she was.

 _His eyes turned away, downcast. She paused, sensing a lingering pain that had mostly gone; his eyes, however, still carried a trail of hurt_. _She kissed his forehead and kneaded his soft locks, whispering in his ear that she was sorry._

 _She felt a single tear trail his face as he sniffled and wiped it. He looked back at her and held her face, staring right into her eyes, holding an intensity in his look that made her skin tingle with heat before he kissed her, breathing into his lips the tangle of emotions so that she might receive them with hers._

 _It took her off guard, but she reciprocated equally, and it took minutes before they lay silently spooning on his bed. He stiffened slightly, not sure how to say things, things that didn't seem to fit the conversation or lack thereof. He took it slowly._ One of the things that I had a hard time dealing with… Well, it was a long time ago, now, but it stings every now and then. _His eyes shut and he calmed himself._ I had a friend, _he breathed heavily_. He… took care of me. He was sort of like an older brother, but he definitely wasn't. _Her brows rose. He was admitting a lot with that statement_.

 _A slight shudder went through him again_. He was a fighter; a military man, you know? But one day, like usual, he got a call. Had orders. He left - we weren't on bad terms when he went off. Everything was just normal. _His voice choked, thickly dry as he continued_. But then… He died, alone, the last of his troop. Everyone else died before him. They only found him days after, and he had no one left _. The_ Except me _went unsaid._

 _He whispered into her hair about the fact he never got to say good-bye. Never even got to ever show him_ Thank you _or_ I love you _, you know?_

 _He said nothing more that night_. _She waited for him to sleep to kiss his face and think about how lucky they were - to live, to learn, to hurt, to grow, and to change. A sad smile lay down on her face as she snuggled into him, following him into the dark of dreams so that she could comfort him there too._

It was worth all the work to get here, she believed. It was not perfect; not by a longshot. But, it was enough.

* * *

The tinkling of the door-bell's chime made her look up from the counter to see her husband walk into their Heaven with a box on his shoulders and a contemplative, but cute, frown attached to his face.

Eyes met and both expressions morphed into slight smiles.

 _Welcome back._


End file.
